Death
by Apple from Mars
Summary: Four freshly dug graves, a crowd around them grieving. (**Character Deaths! Daiken, Junoe, Mira, Jyoushiro**)


Death  
  
By Apple from Mars  
  
Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, and Character Deaths  
  
Couples: Daiken, Junoe, Mira, and Jyoushiro  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
Rain. Wet and cold, little teardrops from heaven, splattering the pavement and drenching the grass in sorrow. The tall trees that surround the open field, bending in the wind and bowing respectfully to the dead that they surround. White and gray blocks of stone, sticking upright in the ground. Names chipped into each block, words of praise for those long gone. There are many funerals going on today and yesterday and tomorrow. Such sadness fills the air, the kind that has not been felt for some time now.  
  
A small set of graves is the focus of the sorrow at this moment. One boy in particular is the bearer of waves and waves of tears, all lying uncried behind red and sore eyes. Dark blue hair drenched by rainwater, despite the umbrella now held above his head by his parents.  
  
Other faces hold sorrow as well. A tall girl is sobbing openly, her brother trying to comfort her, her other sister trying to comfort the youngest, who is also crying softly.  
  
A brown haired boy and girl stand in front, the girl clinging to the boy, her face pale and white, his face tear streaked. The boy clutches an umbrella, trying to hold onto it and the girl at the same time.  
  
Two blond boys, the younger child's face buried in the older child's shirt, not noticing the tears leaking out of the older boy's eyes.  
  
Brown haired boy, younger than the rest, standing silent beside the rest, looking lost and alone.  
  
A blue haired boy and a bright red head clasping hands silently, heads bowed in respect.  
  
Two girls, pink and auburn, arms around each other, both crying aloud, the noise muffled by the sounds of the storm.  
  
A lone blond, far from home, sobbing helplessly, his arms wrapped around himself, head bent against the onslaught of rain attacking his unprotected head.  
  
Six graves lie silent and undisturbed. Two are old, grass overgrown around the headstones. Four are new, freshly dug, the headstones clean and glistening, wet. The ground has practically turned to mud, clinging to everyone's sneakers and shoes. Everyone does not notice.  
  
The apartment is empty now. A ruined wreck. You go in, and see the porch that you could once stand out on I now gone. The wall is gone. Empty space has taken the place of that wall and that porch.  
  
It's covered in ash and dust. The fire burned a lot of things, but their apartment was one of the first with the fire out, so most things weren't damaged. Except them.  
  
An oversized shoe was untouched, sitting on the kitchen counter where the dead boy left it. The blue haired boy with the sad eyes holds it now.  
  
Drawings. Colored pencils, erasers, normal pencils, sketch books. The small box is filled with pictures of the faces. Smiling. Laughing.  
  
A bright day outside on the lawn, with the sun sending light beams bouncing onto the grass and through the tree leaves. A red and white checkered blanket laden with food and drinks. Clusters of violets scattering the grass, visited by small ground bees a few feet away. Miniature daisies and tiny forget-me-nots are scattered across the page, drawn with quick precise parks.  
  
Morning dawning on a room full of sleeping bags. Window open just enough to let the wind tousle stray locks of hair, and let the sun dance over sleeping faces of the children. A CD player over in the corner plays silent music as some stirs without moving.  
  
Winter in the snow, the trees in the park covered in snow and diamonds. Snow forts, snow balls, snow angels. A pink hat on a snowman with a red and purple scarf, as two girls laugh at the boys getting pelted with heaps of snow from a safe distance.  
  
Six people in an apartment, the fans on, sweating in t-shirts and tank tops. Cups and mugs filled with ice cubes and lemonade, the glass doors to the porch wide open, letting summer float in on the cool breeze.  
  
A girl and a boy working in a small garden. Garden tools lie forgotten just behind them. African Lily, Ixia, Winter Daffodil. The names of each flower written in small writing bellow them as the two maroon haired children argue over where to place the simple white Wild Hyacinth.  
  
Portraits of different people. Smiles, tears, laughter, frowns, dark colors, bright colors, winks and peace signs.  
  
Scribbled in different hand writing on a spare piece of paper are lyrics to a song. The notes are scrawled out hastily in pencil just bellow, showing a light and cheerful tune that matched the singers range of key.  
  
A set of poems, all in the same hand that wrote the song on the scrap of paper. Beginnings of songs that will never be finished by the girl who wrote them. Tunes that will never be sung, that will never be whistled on a bright day in winter, when the snow sparkles, and a thousand diamonds are scattered across the top of the white powder.  
  
No one seems willing to leave. The rain continues to fall from the sky, drenching the earth in its cold embrace. The wind continues to howl its frustration, picking up as the minutes drag by.  
  
The two old graves each have fresh bouquets of flowers for the first time in months. The names of two young boys where carved into each of the stones. They had only lived a few years each before death claimed them. Now their family joined them, their younger sister and brother buried beside them.  
  
As the rain fades into nothing but little splutters of water, a voice whispers into the misty air.  
  
"Rest in peace Daisuke-kun."  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
A/N: You don't want to know how long I've spent trying to finish this stupid thing. It doesn't exactly have any point to it either, and it didn't turn out the way I wanted, but still not that bad.  
  
Curse you plot bunnies! Ahem. Enjoy! 


End file.
